


The Dark, Beckoning

by Alley_Skywalker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Founder Era, Gen, M/M, Next-Gen, Riddle eta, Second Wizarding War, first wizarding war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dark lures, entices, and some people’s lives are inevitably tied to it or its agents in all sorts of significant and insignificant ways.</p><p>This is a cycle. That is, these are ficlets/drabbles that are unrelated to each other aside from having a common theme, in this case, dark objects (although one is a liquid and another an outright potion). Five of the parts were written as entries for <a href="http://darkarts-ldws.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://darkarts-ldws.livejournal.com/"></a><b>darkarts_ldws</b>  with two written afterwards to have the cycle neatly cover all the main timeframes of fandom (Thanks, Kat, for the promps!).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aeternum Vale

**Author's Note:**

> Characters: Salazar, Godric

It is cold and solid in his hands, the coolness of the metal seeping into his hands and penetrating deep into the skin, cooling the blood in his veins. Salazar bites down on his lower lip and chews it thoughtfully. His heart is still racing from the argument he and Godric had just had. It had been a while since they had fought like that. Years perhaps, not since they were boys.

 

It was different now. Godric was full of himself and ears-deep in the filth he brought into their haven, their school. He could not see reason, see that these children of non-wizarding blood could easily crumble their dream if given half the chance.

 

He turns the time-turner around and around and around until it is spinning almost uncontrollably, catching light from the window and seeming to almost glow with it. The glow fills his vision, ensnaring the world within it’s odd, dizzying light.

 

When Salazar can see again, he beholds an expansive field, overgrown with daisies and weeds. The sky is covered with large, grey clouds which lumber on their way, driven by a strong, northern wind. In the distance, two boys in white, linen blouses run through the grass, holding hands. They are about ten, perhaps slightly older. One is blonde and slim, the other red-haired with a firm build and broad shoulders. The clouds devour the sun and the wind begins to gust, carrying the shouts of the two boys with it as they come closer.

 

Salazar sinks onto his knees in the tall grass, watching. That redhead. How he had loved that companion of his youth. For Merlin’s sake, why did Godric have to change?

 

“Come on, Salazar, we need to get home before it rains!” the redhead boy shouts, letting go of the blonde’s hand before running ahead several feet, then turning and waving both hands above his head in encouragement.

 

Salazar watches him, the time-turner cool and thrumming in his hand, whispering possibilities. Certainly he did not come here simply to watch, to drown in nostalgia. He came here to act. It was he who had charmed Helga at the ball and it was Helga who had introduced him to the Lady Rowena. They did not need Godric at all. The time-turner seemed to go almost ice-cold in his fist.

 

Salazar raised his wand, pointing it at the young Gryffindor who was still jogging backwards. “Avada Kedavra,” he murmured, slashing his wand through the air, sending a deadly, green missive forward. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled.

 

With a squawk of surprise, Godric fell back, tripping over something in the grass. The child version of himself gave a shout of fright at the flash of green light. Salazar now remembered – he’d thought it was lightening back then. “Let’s go, go!” his child-self shouted in alarm, dragging Godric up by the shoulder. The boys grasped hands once more as they sprinted down the hill and and toward the castle walls.

 

Salazar dropped his head in both hands and let out a ragged sigh. He remembered now. The sunny day that had suddenly turned grim. The flash of green lightening that seemed to come out of the ground rather than from the sky. The icy rain that had besought them just as they made it through the gates. Himself, bandaging Godric’s bloodied, scraped arm that he had hurt during that fall, as the warmed by the fireplace.

 

The time-turner was still, its opportunity missed. Salazar let out a ragged breath and opened his clamped fist. The golden trinket twinkled up at him even in the darkening gloom of the storm clouds. He wasn’t a child anymore. There were grey specks in his hair now. It was time he let go of the past, return to the the present, and build the future no matter who got in his way. 

 

It was time he let go of Godric. 


	2. Power of Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paring: Albus/Gellert

The moonlight fell in a ghostly, blueish mist over the cold marble floor, throwing dusky shadows into corners and nooks. Gellert’s footsteps echoed quietly as he made his way across the chamber. His hair, yellow-blonde like the sun in daylight, now shown in a pale, off-white glow, just barely tinged with the warmer tones of sunflower petals. His blue eyes were fixed before him, straight at the object leaned carefully against the far wall. His eyes no longer danced, as they usually would, aroused with mirth, but were fixed, purposefully onto his goal, intense and burning, like dry ice.

 

The mirror.

 

It called to him, through the gloom, through the distance. Called to him in whispers, as a lover. Gellert lifted his wand and with a whispered enchantment the silk cloth covering the mirror fell to the floor, rustling, whispering as it went, folding up into lush folds. His full lips twitched upwards in a smile. It was now before him, naked in its glory once again, shinning with gold and power, one adornment visible, the other felt.

 

Gellert stood before the ancient mirror, his wand tucked back into his cloak. He beheld himself in the mirror, all powerful and the maker of a new and truer world, the ultimate hero of a dark, captivating fairytale. Albus was with him, beside him. Not quite an equal but a partner nonetheless. Albus, gazing at him with adoring eyes. Gellert watched as they turned to one another and touched, kissed, fucked…

 

Gellert watched himself and Albus make love, his breath catching and his muscle tensing. He can feel the heat rising up in him, spreading like a lava tide through his body, making his fingers tingle and his member rise and strain against its constraints. He watched Albus pleasure him and then himself take the other boy, Albus submitting to his power, submitting both his body and his brilliant mind.

 

The mirror called to him: “Come, come, unite with me. Within me there is passion and power. Come to me and be united with your dreams.”

 

Gellert’s body answered the call and he moved a step forward. He clutched at his wand, running his fingers over its smooth surface. He didn’t know if he would need it or how he could use it, but he wanted to be armed when he stepped into the mist that he could see swirling ominously just beyond the figures of himself and Albus. He took another step forward, bringing him flat against the glass. The mist began to open up, he could feel its cold tendrils curling around him…

 

Albus’ voice screaming his name from somewhere behind him is the last thing he heard before fading.


	3. In Secret, In Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Abraxas Malfoy, Tom Riddle

“Tom, what are we doing? We’re not supposed to be here.”

“Are you suddenly a champion of morality, Abraxas?”

“Hardly. I just don’t…care to end up in detention with some mudblood professor…Why must we be in the dark? Lumos.”

Riddle smirked, turning to the young Malfoy walking behind him. “Because we don’t want to get caught. We’re here, though.”

Abraxas looked around the underground tunnel with some uncertainty. They were somewhere deep under the Hogwarts grounds, but the exact location was unclear. “And here is…where, exactly?”

“It’s a secret passage with some secret chambers. I suppose the headmaster knows of it, perhaps the caretaker, but anyone else - unlikely.” Riddle began muttering some incantation.

Abraxas lifted his wand, the light of his lumos bathing the passageway in a ghostly blue. Water dripped from the ceiling and mold grew in corners and cracks between stones. “It’s disgusting.”

Tom shrugged. “I haven’t noticed.”

Abraxas sniffed, watching as a section of the stone wall slid back, allowing them entrance into a small chamber. Riddle ushered him in, and Abraxas followed, putting out his wand and casting a lighting spell on the candles around the chamber. The space wasn’t large but not too cramped. There was a table, a caldron, a set of potions instruments and a cabinet stacked with vials. Riddle instantly began to look for something. He came back with a flask of clear fluid and held it up to the light. “This is what we need to solve our little mudblood problem at the wizengamot.”

“What is it?” Malfoy asked, cocking his head and trying to figure out what sort of potion it was.

“It’s a poison. But not an ordinary poison. So rare it’ll never be suspected and once in the system, untraceable within minutes. Now, after our graduation in a month, you will be free to use this on those against us and our cause.” Riddle’s smile grew wistful.

“What is it?” Abraxas’ voice was low, somewhat in awe, waiting.

“Basilisk venom.”

“Basilisk…but how did you…?”

“I have my ways.”

“Tell me.”

“No,” Riddle snapped sharply. “Maybe one day but not while we’re under the eyes of the headmaster.”

“You don’t trust me,”

Riddle handed the flask to Abraxas, sighing. “If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be giving you this to carry out the essential deeds in my stead.”

“Where are you going?” Abraxas took the vial and weighed it in his hand. There were at least five doses of the substance there. Five would do.

“Away. I can’t say where, but I’ll come back and when I do…Well, you’ll see.”

Abraxas hid the venom-filled vial into his robes and looked steadily up at his friend. “I’d better.”


	4. Objects of Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paring: Antonin/Bellatrix

The heavy door of the Lestrange vault slides open, revealing the shelves of valuable items and stacks of gleaming galleons, Bellatrix lifts her skits with one hand and walks inside, her other arm protectively cradling a golden cup, which twinkles slyly in the unsure light of the vault. Antonin leans against the stone doorframe and watches her as she sweeps over to the shelves, looking for a proper spot. The goblin who had brought them down stands in the hallway, snarling and snuffling. Antonin turn and waves the creature away. The goblin goes, grumbling, and Antonin’s eyes slide back to Bella.

 

“Have you found a spot?”

 

She doesn’t answer him for a moment, arranging the cup in its new home on a shelf of a Gringotts vault. Bella takes a step back, fixing her hat with its long, black, sating bow. She stares at the cup, as though mesmerized. “I’m almost afraid to leave it.” Her voice is small, an unusual sound out of her.

 

“No where is safer than Gringotts. Except for Hogwarts but I’m pretty sure that’s out,” Antonin reasons calmly.

 

“He gave it to me to protect,” she continues, answering him and yet acting like she had not heard him at all. “Can you not feel it? The pulsing? There is something very important about this cup. I could see it in His eyes.” She turns to him. Her eyes are clear, deep, black lakes, filled to the brim with emotion.

 

“I think your dear husband is jealous of the wrong man,” Antonin snips mockingly.

 

Bella sneers and her eyes narrow. “You could be more grateful, Tony. If it weren’t for our Lord you would still be in Azkaban.”

 

“Our Lord? I, honestly, preferred Riddle.” He strides confidently past her and grabs the cup off the shelf. She’s allowed him in here so the security jinks doesn’t work. “What if I were to break it? Right now.”

 

Bellatrix turns slowly, her entire body lithe, suddenly snake-like. Antonin feels a strong surge of desire. “You wouldn’t dare,” she hisses. He can tell she’s terrified.

 

Antonin takes out his wand and smirks. “Are you certain?” He wants to do this, to torture her. After what she did, how she’d betrayed him. He hadn’t wanted a part in this war, he’d only done it for her.

 

She glides over to him and puts one hand on his chest, the other sliding up his arm, over his wrist and the hand which grips the cup. “You won’t.”

 

She’s so close he can’t quite breathe. “How are you sure?”

 

She pries the cup out of his loosened hold and takes it back to its shelf. Still facing away from him she half-whispers, “Because you love me.”


	5. Be Good, Little Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Lucius(/Narcissa)

The small book sat on the ornate, redwood table, its cover dark and soft-looking, appealing, luring. Lucius ran a finger down its spine, stroking it. Good little book, be good now. He wondered if it could burn, burn like the papers he had just committed to the fire. Everything of vital importants was evacuated to hidden safes, other secure places. Everything else that could be compromising was burned. He wondered if the little old book would burn or if it was somehow fire-resistant, cursed into indestructibility.

 

Except, it didn’t look old and it wasn’t something he would dare destroy. The Lord, if he ever came back, would not forgive such a betrayal.

 

Of course, Voldemort coming back was a very small chance. Now, the ministry barging in with their humiliating search warrants, like they really had any right at all, was a different matter. If he was to take care of the little book, he could at least use it to his advantage. Sending it away to the Vaults could have been an option but… It would make ten times more sense to utilize it. Against those Weasleys and that old toad, Dumbledore. He knew what the Lord’s plan had been. He did not know what exact powers the little book possessed but apparently, they were sufficient.

 

Soft footsteps on the carpeted floor announced Narcissa’s arrival. Lucius gingerly picked up the book and locked it back up into its safe. He turned to face his wife, who was already in her silk nightgown, her long blonde hair streaming over her shoulders. “Still worried?” she asked liltingly.

 

“No, darling, come to bed.” _Be good, little book._


	6. Plans for Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Antonin, Draco, others

The thick, heavy velvet was a dark maroon color, so dark that it could almost be mistaken for black in the dim light. Very carefully, the young, blonde wizard unfolded the cloth to reveal a gruesome, grey hand lying within it.

“The Hand of Glory?” one of the three men who stood with the boy half-asked, half-stated, peering down at the object with something akin to disgust. The three wizards wore black robes with heavy hoods which were down at the moment. The boy with them wore his Hogwarts robes, a green-and-silver scarf peeking out, a timid dot of color on the otherwise swallowing black.

“Yes,” the boy replied, straining to sound confident. “This, and the darkness power, are the last pieces of the puzzle.” He looked up at his commanding officer and blinked.

“I think it’s brilliant,” the man said after a pause. “A well thought out plan, Draco. Your father can be proud.”

“Antonin, this thing…it’s so…”

“Shut up, Rodolphus, you don’t have to touch it if you feel so repulsed,” Antonin sneered.

Lestrange drew himself up, making his best aristocratic face, which was ignore by everyone. Antonin was still looking at the hand, intense and concentrated. “Alright, let’s go over this again, Draco.”

“On the signal, at the confirmed time, you will come through the vanishing cabinet into Hogwarts. You will end up in the room of requirement where I shall meet you. Using the darkness powder we will blind any onlookers as we leave the room and the Hand will give us enough light to get to the pre-decided location undetected yet without blind wanderings.”

“Are students not routinely searched for Dark Objects?”

“They are, sir. That is why I must entrust this to you for now.” Draco gingerly wrapped the hand up again and held it out.

Antonin took the velvet-wrapped hand and hid it within his robes. “Good. Now you should get back before one of the chaperones notices you are missing. I will write to you later with more details.

Draco nodded, subdued and relieved, and ducked his head in a sign of reverence, waiting for the men to leave, but Antonin held back. Draco looked up cautiously, fluttering eyelids betraying his uneasiness. “Draco,” Antonin said quietly. “If this works as it is supposed to, your family will not only regain its graces, but I might recommend you as a budding strategy specialist.”

Draco tried to keep his expression blank, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was the most pleasant prospect he’d had in many months. “Thank you, sir. I’d be honored.”


	7. Playing God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paring: Scorpius/Lysander

“It’s the best thing, Scor.” Anthony held out the glass test tube, giving it a little shake.

 

Scorpius eyed the colorless liquid within it somewhat suspiciously. “Don’t tell me it’s Vodka.”

 

Anthony rolled his eyes, giving his head an annoyed jerk and making brown curls fly all over the place. “Don’t be ridiculous, Scorpius, you know what it is.”

 

“The Draught. I know.” He reached up and took the flask gingerly out of his friend’s hand. “The word ‘death’ in the name scares me, honestly.”

 

“Then concentrate on the ‘living’ part of it.” Anthony smirked.

 

In the shadow of the room, Scorpius attempted to hide his feelings, his trepidation. “Are you sure this is the only way? Ly would come with us willingly, no potions needed.”

 

“His family would always pull him back. Not to mention those obnoxious Potter-Weasleys. Look, Scor, it’s foolproof. Lysander wrote to his brother that he is ill, Lorcan is coming here tomorrow. He finds his brother dead, he won’t suspect a thing.”

 

“What about the funeral?”

 

Anthony shrugged. “While he’s away summoning his family, we’ll apparate Lysander to the rendezvous point, then torch this place. They’ll think Lysander’s body was caught in the fire. Lysander will wake up only to be told his family thinks him dead. He’s having a hard time cutting ties, why not do it for him?”

 

Scorpius looked down, shuffling his feel. “You’re right, of course,” he said finally. “I’ll do it, alright?”

 

Anthony shrugged. “That’s why I gave it to you. At your leisure.”

 

Scorpius wandered into the adjoining room where a single candle burned by the window. Lysander lay in bed, swaddled with blankets. The damn toad fever had really gotten to him. Scorpius sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand gently through the younger boy’s golden curls. “Hey, Ly, you awake?” he whispered, studying the other boy’s soft, flushed features. Lysander blinked blearily up at him and Scorpius made up his mind. He could take much better care of Lysander than his pretentious brother or his loony parents. They were of the same House, of the same goals and ideas. They were in love. “Ly, baby, why don’t you drink this.” Scorpius supported the younger boy’s head, tilting the flask to his lips. At Lysander’s questioning look, Scorpius fought to not look away as he answered. “It’s just water, baby, come on.” Lysander drank and Scorpius watched as his eyelids became heavier, droopier and his gaze more unfocused. Gradually, Lysander went limp in his arms, eyes closed.

 

Scorpius lay his lover back down and brushed a kiss against his lips. “Be patient, baby. When you wake up, we can go back to conquering the world.”


End file.
